Methadone
by Raven25
Summary: A mysterious world and a dangerous situation for Daniel...


A cold, wet, windy place. A wild land untamed by man, nor beast, nor Stargate team. The Stargate programme had designated this world P3X-979, but the inhabitants called their world by a softer, more musical name – 'Andralorien.'  
  
The MALP, of course, knew nothing of this. The probe performed its duties admirably. It was, the general thought sometimes, preferable to sending some of his teams. Not that he was belittling their achievements in any way, but he felt a lot more easy in his mind and heart about sending the trusty MALP into danger. MALPs could be replaced. His beloved teams could not.  
  
Nevertheless, SG-1, primary team, flagship team extraordinaire, exited Andralorien's Stargate some time later, to find themselves in the middle of a steady downpour.  
  
"Oh, joy," were Jack O'Neill's words on his first sight of the desolate landscape.  
  
"It could be worse," Daniel pointed out, truthfully, but not too tactfully. "There aren't any trees."  
  
"Thank you, Dr. Jackson, for that highly perceptive observation." Jack was always cranky in wet weather, and in deserts. He suspected it might have something to do with the fact it was always either wet weather or else they were in the desert.  
  
"Well, I'm sorry," retorted Daniel, none too sweet-tempered himself. "If I hadn't said it, someone else would. Most likely you."  
  
"Daniel…"  
  
"Yes?"  
  
"Shut up."  
  
The rain was now dripping off the ends of Daniel's long hair, and falling into his eyes. If he hadn't been busy trying to see through the mist on his glasses, he would have been quite happy to continue the argument, but as things were, he let the subject drop. However, everything seemed to be irritating the colonel, as his next remarks were also directed at Daniel, and they weren't remotely good-natured. "For crying out loud! Daniel, would you just do something about your hair? All you need are ribbons, for Christ's sake!"  
  
Daniel pushed the honey coloured locks of hair away from his face, and turned to face the team leader. "Since when has the length of my hair had anything to do with anything, Jack?" he demanded, annoyed.  
  
"Since right now! If you were military…"  
  
"I'm not."  
  
"I know that! What I'm saying is, if you were, you would have…"  
  
"Colonel!" Sam's voice calling urgently put a stop to his tirade, at least for the moment. "Look!"  
  
Jack looked. "Oh, my God…" he breathed.  
  
In the distance, they could see a horse and rider. Both horseman and horse were wreathed in tendrils of mist, and Daniel, the most impressionable of the four, thought to himself that the rider and his steed could be riding straight out of legend. The horse itself was jet black, coat, mane and tail, and its rider was wrapped in a flowing black cloak that half covered his face. The thunder of hoofs upon the springy, heather-covered moor land reverberated in the Earth team's ears; they knew that at the speed it was going, the horse would be upon them in a very few minutes.  
  
The archaeologist in Daniel automatically tried to see the bridle and saddle on the horse, reasoning that they would reflect the cultural background and development of the rider. But it was only as the horse drew ever closer that he realised what a futile task this was. The rider was riding bareback, guiding the creature with his hands alone. Just by touch, he induced his steed to come to a halt, right beside the Earth team.  
  
"Uh… hi," said Jack, suddenly wondering if this was what it felt like to be Daniel when he was trying to communicate.  
  
"Greetings," returned the rider. He was someone you wanted on your good side, Jack decided. He was tall, and seemed taller because of the flowing dark cloak. His eyes were pale grey in colour, and they almost didn't match his hair, which was long and black as jet. The overall impression he gave was of someone not unused to fighting his way out of a tight corner. "You are travellers through the circle of standing water, are you not?"  
  
"The… circle of standing water?" Daniel repeated, and went on, "Yes. That is, we are. We came through the Stargate."  
  
"Another name for the same thing," declared the rider. "I am Wolf. This world is Andralorien. From whence have you come?"  
  
"Um…we're peaceful explorers from Earth," Daniel began, thinking to himself how he could now recite this in his sleep. "My name is Daniel Jackson, and these are Colonel Jack O'Neill, Major Samantha Carter and Teal'C."  
  
"Long and formidable names indeed." Wolf was looking at them with an unfathomable expression. Jack hoped very much he wasn't deciding to suddenly become hostile, as did so many of the planetary natives they encountered. But he immediately rephrased that in his mind – he didn't like calling Wolf a 'native.' The term didn't fit somehow.  
  
"Try Daniel, Sam, Jack and Teal'C," Daniel said, smiling slightly. He'd often wondered himself why he and his team and indeed all the people on Earth insisted on burdening themselves with such overly complicated names. It seemed a waste of time to the young archaeologist.  
  
"They are good names. And yet… you say are from Earth. That name means nothing to me."  
  
Daniel dropped to the ground and found a muddy patch. It was difficult in the rain, but with one delicate fingertip, he traced the Earth chevron in the ground. Wolf's expression suddenly cleared. "I understand. Come. I will take you to my people. They will be most interested to see the travellers through the circle."  
  
Sam and Teal'C looked at Jack inquiringly, giving him the should-we, shouldn't-we look they reserved for these occasions. Daniel, of course, full of eagerness to see a new culture, didn't look back.  
  
Jack considered. They hadn't been threatened in any way as of yet, and even he, SG-1's resident Philistine, was intrigued by these people. Wolf regarded them keenly, waiting for their response.  
  
Jack shrugged. "Let's go," he said. SG-1 followed.  
  
They trudged along in silence for some time, Wolf leading the horse, in some way achieving the feat without any reins. But it would appear that even with the ease he led the horse, he felt uncomfortable. Daniel, sensitive enough to notice this, wondered why.  
  
Finally, Wolf gave voice to his thoughts. "Can you ride?" he asked bluntly.  
  
"Yes," said Sam instantly. The others looked at her in surprise. "What?" she asked. "I loved riding when I was a kid!"  
  
"I was always a baseball kid," Jack responded. "Never was into all that… stuff."  
  
"I have never ridden an equine, O'Neill," said Teal'C gravely. "On Chulak, beasts of burden draw carts only."  
  
"Which leaves you, Daniel," Jack said. "Can you ride a horse?"  
  
Daniel looked thoughtful. "A camel… yes. A donkey… yes. A horse… I don't know."  
  
"You can try," Wolf told them. "And you…" He looked at Daniel thoughtfully, but didn't finish the thought. Jack caught the look, and wondered…  
  
Wolf stopped in the rain and called over the wind. He called words in a strange, musical language, words that Jack couldn't understand in the least, but he knew by the look on his face that his archaeologist could. Daniel listened to every word of it attentively. Some of it he couldn't make out, but most of it he could. The call rang out, sounding through the howling wind.  
  
And then the horses came. Out of the mists they came, in response to the horseman's call, coming seemingly out of nowhere. Four of them came close enough to touch, and Wolf called again, softly now. They stopped. Wolf looked at the team expectantly, who as one turned to look at Sam.  
  
Smiling nervously, Sam took a step forward and laid a hand on the glossy coat of the nearest horse. It didn't object, and Sam was encouraged to mount the horse. Once she was up on the animal's back, her nervousness melted away. She remembered how much she'd enjoyed this as a kid.  
  
Daniel was next. His eyes were filled with apprehension, but his hands were steady as he moved to mount the horse. He managed to do so without incident, finding a horse easy to cope with after the camels of his childhood, but even so, Wolf looked at him again, in the same way as he had before. Again, Jack caught the look, and wondered idly what was going on there. He forgot all about it as he moved to mount the horse, remarkably managing to do so successfully.  
  
Teal'C eyed the last horse with suspicion. He had deep doubts about this enterprise. However, his military mind was trained to follow orders, and in response to the colonel's gesture, he mounted the horse.  
  
It didn't object. Neither, surprisingly, did Teal'C. As SG-1 trotted along, he found himself beginning to enjoy the sensation, and began storing the entire experience in his mind to tell Ry'ac about. His son enjoyed his tales. Teal'C suspected he would get more than usual enjoyment out of this one.  
  
  
  
Daniel was intrigued by this new culture. Some quick questioning revealed the fact that not only did Wolf know all about the Stargate and its DHD, he also knew several valid addresses. The horseman also responded intelligently to all Daniel's questions concerning other parts of his culture, and Daniel was faced with an unusual dilemma that he tried to explain to Sam some time later.  
  
SG-1 were sitting around a fire Wolf had assured them was perfectly safe to light. The four team members all instinctively trusted their guide, even Jack, who sensed a kindred spirit in him, possessor of a military, strategic mind. Jack himself was beginning to lose some of his early ambivalence towards this world. Sure, the weather was abysmal, they were being forced to ride horses, it seemed like a long way to wherever it was they were going, and Daniel appeared not to even notice, wrapped up in tales of a truly bizarre culture, according to Wolf, but Jack didn't mind. Somehow… he didn't mind.  
  
Daniel was trying to explain to Sam, who found herself just as interested as the archaeologist himself in the mystery he was describing.  
  
"It's like this," he said thoughtfully. "Wolf and his people obviously know what the Stargate is for. I was asking him about it, and he knows how to use the DHD, and he says that there are records that contain valid Stargate addresses… which I would really like to see. And they apparently know all about everything we do."  
  
"Such as?"  
  
"Oh, basic stuff, like metallurgy, cleanliness, glassmaking, electricity, reading and writing… all that kind of stuff."  
  
"'All that kind of stuff?'" Sam repeated dubiously. "That's a kinda… varied selection you've got there, Daniel."  
  
Daniel smiled ruefully. "Those are the only subjects I've asked Wolf about so far," he said. Sam shook her head. There were times when she thought she would never understand the way her friend's mind worked. "So what's the problem?" she asked.  
  
"Think about it, Sam," Daniel said seriously. "I can't be sure until I've seen the rest of Wolf's people and the settlement they live in, but I think I could venture to say their level of technology is about the same as ours. And yet we're out here on horseback with firelight. They know about electricity, so why don't they use it?"  
  
"Or devise a better method of transport than horses?" speculated Sam.  
  
"They don't even use saddles and bridles on their horses," Daniel added. "Wolf apparently knows all about leatherwork and metallurgy, so why not?"  
  
Sam didn't have an answer for that one. She yawned, and was about to say something completely unrelated, when Wolf suddenly motioned for her to be quiet. "Hush," he said sharply. "An enemy approaches."  
  
"An enemy?" Jack replied. "You never said anything about enemies!" He was a little perturbed. All the doubts he had formerly harboured began to resurface with a vengeance.  
  
Wolf ignored him. He pushed the team and their horses back and down to the ground, away from the sound of advancing hooves, making sure they were nearly out of sight, and then, standing up, he drew his sword with a swishing sound. Daniel fairly gaped at it, recognising in its craftsmanship the mark of a truly accomplished culture, but Jack placed a firm hand over his archaeologist's mouth. "Shut up!" he hissed under his breath.  
  
The horses came out of the mist as they had before. Still creatures of grace and power, but they now held the power to terrify. The shadows of their black clad riders fell over the Earth team and their guide like shadows from the darkest depths of hell. Wolf walked out to face them without fear, and Jack was momentarily reminded of Bra'tac, the Jaffa mentor, who did things that seemed incredibly stupid and then turned out to be the best things they could possibly have done. Jack watched and waited.  
  
Wolf spoke softly to the black riders, but Daniel could make out the words, and Jack, watching him intently, saw a look of fear come momentarily into the steady blue eyes.  
  
After a few minutes, Wolf came back to where the team were standing. "They give us safe passage," he said curtly, and bid them mount the horses. Jack noticed he kept the sword by his side, and he wanted explanations, sure, but right now he was ready to mount the horse and get the hell out of Dodge.  
  
Daniel called, "Jack!"  
  
Damn you, Daniel, was Jack's immediate thought. Aloud, he said, "What?"  
  
"We can't do this!"  
  
"Daniel, get on the horse. Do it!"  
  
Daniel watched him, a stubborn look coming into his eyes. He didn't move. Jack felt his already scanty store of patience begin to run out. "Daniel!" he yelled.  
  
As he shouted, Wolf turned to look at him. He didn't look like the sort of person to adopt Jack's approach to this kind of situation, which was to shout a lot, swear a lot under his breath, and finally drag Daniel bodily wherever he wanted him to go. Jack was just about to do this himself, when Wolf held up a hand to stop him. His eyes were on Daniel. "You understood," he said at last, expressionlessly.  
  
"Yes." Daniel's voice was just as expressionless.  
  
"Mount the horse," Wolf commanded, and Daniel obeyed. Silently, he swung himself onto the animal with a grace that suggested a childhood spent aloft on a camel had left its touch on him.  
  
Wolf began to ride forwards. He took the lead, then Sam, Teal'C, Jack, and finally Daniel. Jack turned to him, saying roughly, "What the hell was that about?"  
  
Daniel didn't answer. He was looking behind him, ears pricked up, and after a second the team leader heard it too. The sound of galloping horses.  
  
The black riders were back. This time, they didn't even slow down, riding past them like arrows from a black bow, but one rider came closer than the others. He came close enough to lay a delicate touch on Daniel's blonde head.  
  
To Jack, it seemed almost as if Daniel let it happen. The rider was skilled enough to keep control of his own steed, whilst also subduing Daniel's, but it was almost too easy for him to take the archaeologist in his arms, and then sling him over his own horse. With his companions, he rode off into the darkness. He took Daniel with him into darkness.  
  
Jack ignored the fact he'd had next to no experience on a horse, and swung his mount round impatiently, ready to gallop away.  
  
"No!" Wolf shouted. "Do not follow!"  
  
"Excuse me?" Jack demanded. "They took Daniel!"  
  
"Let it go."  
  
Jack stared at him. "Are you blind, or crazy, or what?!"  
  
"Daniel knew. He let this happen. You must respect his decision," Wolf stated dispassionately.  
  
"What?" Sam and Jack spoke at the same time.  
  
Wolf sighed. "The black riders are dangerous. Even with the four of us, we could not hope to defeat them and escape with our lives. Better to sacrifice the one, and let the rest live."  
  
"Sacrifice… Daniel? Do you know what this is?" Jack pointed to the gun he carried.  
  
"I know what that is," Wolf said. "Even the projectile weapons you carry are no match for the might of the riders. When we were surrounded by them, I feared the worst. The offer they made is typical of them. They want only one – they will take him, and leave the rest free."  
  
"And you let them take Daniel?" Jack was alternately furiously angry and desperately confused.  
  
"He understood what was said, did he not?"  
  
Jack had to admit this was more than likely. Daniel's twenty-three languages were part of the reason he had taken on the role of the team's conscience.  
  
"He understood… he accepted. He allowed himself to be taken and did not fight it, because he knew the consequences of refusing. He made the sacrifice."  
  
"What… what will happen to him?" Sam asked hesitantly.  
  
"That, no-one knows. What we do know is if we attempt to recover your friend from the clutches of the riders, we will not live to regret it."  
  
Jack fumed. Silently, he cursed this enigmatic individual, this goddamn wet planet, these horses, and most of all, Daniel, too young, too intelligent, too…  
  
"It was an act of great courage, O'Neill," said Teal'C suddenly. "Daniel Jackson's name shall live on."  
  
"Oh, for cryin' out loud!" said Jack abruptly. "We don't even know if he's dead! We'll bring as much firepower as we can and we'll get him back!"  
  
"Such thinking is folly," Wolf said gravely. "You have not seen what the black riders have done and can do."  
  
"You do know what this is?" Jack pointed at the gun again.  
  
"I know," Wolf told him. "My people have such weapons of destruction. They have not aided us in our fight."  
  
"And what fight would that be?" Jack asked, and Sam, who had been just about to ask the exact same question, closed her mouth.  
  
Wolf paused for a few seconds. Then, he said curtly, "Mount your horses, and ride. It is a long story, and is best told whilst we go."  
  
The wind howled on, almost drowning out the sound of the horses' hooves on the ground. Sam wondered how their guide's voice remained so clear above the storm.  
  
"My people are called the Brethren. We were brought here aeons ago," Wolf began. "Through the circle of standing water, than you call the Stargate."  
  
"By the Goa'uld," said Sam instantly.  
  
"No." Wolf shook his head. "They are friends to all, protectors to all, except the Goa'uld, with whom they are at war."  
  
Sam recognised the description. "The Asgard!" she exclaimed. In the silence that followed, she dropped her head and decided she wouldn't interrupt any more.  
  
"Yes," said Wolf after a pause. "The Asgard. The guardians of my people. They brought us here from another world, because that world was rich in naquadah and trinium deposits.  
  
Sam opened her mouth, then closed it again.  
  
"My people have no use for such things. However, the Goa'uld do. The Asgard foresaw that sooner or later, they would come, and we were not able to defend ourselves from them. So, we were taken from there to here, Andralorien, a world not known to the Goa'uld."  
  
Sam did not comment, but she remembered that the address they had dialled in to Earth's Stargate was taken from the knowledge of the Ancients that had been downloaded into Colonel O'Neill's brain.  
  
"After this, we lived in peace for many generations. The Asgard have given us a gift that will last until the world ends."  
  
Jack tried not to, but he couldn't stop himself from interrupting. "Then what the hell was that?" he demanded, thinking of the fear the black riders inspired.  
  
"I had not yet finished. This is an Asgard protected planet, as you know, but it is not protected in the same way as Cimmeria."  
  
Sam's head jerked up. "Cimmeria?" she repeated. "You know about Cimmeria?"  
  
"We know of six combinations for the circle. Cimmeria is one of them, but as it is known to the Goa'uld, is protected in a different way from us. We have nothing the Goa'uld could want, and our planet is not known to them. It is protection enough. We are safe."  
  
"What do you mean, you have nothing they want?" Jack asked. "Everyone has something they want!"  
  
"We have nothing. There is no technology, if that is what you were thinking."  
  
"Daniel… said that," said Sam with difficulty, suddenly reminded of the fact the long haired archaeologist was not riding beside her. "He said that on a cultural level, he thought you reminded him of us, and yet… you don't seem to like using technology."  
  
Wolf looked thoughtful. "We have technology," he said. "We have things similar to what you have. But what we have, we do not always use. The Brethren have always looked to the land and world around us for what we need, and it is felt that it is weakness and folly to rely on anything other than ourselves. Our people were saved by a race a great deal more advanced than ourselves, and we vowed that it would never be necessary again. Without technology, we are no threat to the Goa'uld. And yet we have everything we need, or want. We are… happy."  
  
Jack stared at him. He had several things ready on the tip of his tongue to say, none of them lacking in his unique brand of sarcasm, but somehow, he managed to keep quiet. Wolf was still talking, his soft voice still carrying over the howling wind and driving rain.  
  
"You have technology… that you don't use?" That was Sam. "You have everything we have… and you don't use it?"  
  
"That is so," Wolf nodded. "I believe our civilisation must be greater in age than your own."  
  
"How'd you figure that out?" Jack asked, wondering why it always had to be him who asked. Carter and Teal'C had evidently seen the logic behind the statement, as neither of them had commented.  
  
"I believe it to be so because your people have advanced as far as they have with a thirst to learn, is it not?" Wolf said. "The Brethren are… apathetic in their approach to innovation. It must have taken us generations more than it took you to advance to the same level."  
  
Jack nodded and accepted this. Wolf saw he understood, and went on, "But that is not the end of the story. Many, many years ago, in the time of my father's father, there was an uprising. A single radical leader and his disciples who spoke out against our way of life. They embraced principles much like your own, and proclaimed their belief in working to improve and use our limited technology as a way of life, as we have never done. In short, they wanted to abandon everything we have ever done, and become a civilisation like yours, that relies on technology and what it can do. The uprising was not crushed completely, but the leader led his followers away to somewhere far away, and never returned. Years passed, and the whole affair was forgotten.  
  
"But then there came word of the black riders. We have surmised that the uprising has come of age, and that these years of peace have simply been its hibernation period. The black riders are the descendants of the original rebels, and they now roam the land and use the circle of standing water to travel to other worlds in their never ending search for technology. They stay away from my people as a general rule, but we fear them. It is only a matter of time before they return to recruit more for their cause."  
  
"Then what just happened?" Sam asked. "Why did they take Daniel?"  
  
"He is a traveller from another world. They believe he may be a valuable asset."  
  
"Then why not take all of us?" Jack asked. "We're all 'travellers from another world.'"  
  
Wolf looked at him seriously. "You must never forget that no matter what they have done and what they have become, they are still part of the Brethren at heart. They will not hurt more than they need to, and they will not take lives unnecessarily. They saw your friend was the most likely of you to make the sacrifice, and they took what they wanted."  
  
"What can Daniel give them?" Sam wondered out loud.  
  
"That, I cannot tell," Wolf told her.  
  
There was a silence.  
  
"Wait just one freakin' minute!" Jack exclaimed abruptly. "If they 'don't take lives unnecessarily' and are really just the good guys gone bad, then just what the hell are they going to do to Daniel? And why for the love of God can't we go get him back?"  
  
Wolf stared back at him. "There is more than one way to hurt," was all he would say.  
  
They journeyed on in silence.  
  
  
  
1 Several days later  
  
The Stargate stood still and dormant. The general looked at it and sighed. To borrow a phrase, he had a very bad feeling about this one. Things never went as planned where SG-1 were concerned, he knew that, but even so he didn't like this at all. Life as a base commander, he decided, was more than ninety-nine percent waiting. Waiting for news, waiting for people, waiting for something to happen.  
  
Sighing to himself, General Hammond returned to the control room. Glancing at a technician, he asked softly, "How long since SG-1 checked in?"  
  
"They are forty-eight hours overdue, sir."  
  
The general sighed even more deeply. Enough was enough. He was sending someone in after them. He turned to leave, and then…  
  
"Unscheduled Gate activation! Incoming traveller!"  
  
The announcement permeated every part of the base. The general wheeled round and looked sharply through the glass. As he watched the wormhole form, he hoped this was good news. He'd much rather do the entire base's paperwork than see more grief come through that Stargate.  
  
"Sir, we have a signal." The technician pointed to the computer screen in front of him. "It's SG-1."  
  
"Open the iris," the general said, without turning his gaze from the Gate. He watched as the metal spun out of the way. For a second, there was nothing to be seen but the silvery, shimmering surface of the wormhole.  
  
"Oh, my God…" Hammond breathed as he saw what happened next.  
  
It was a horse. A magnificent charger with black coat, mane and tail, standing on the ramp, looking like some kind of legendary apparition in the dull grey of the Gate room. Astride the creature, its rider was just as unearthly in appearance, wearing a long flowing black cloak, with a hood that half hid its wearer's face. Even in that split second, the general noticed the rider was bareback riding. But what he focused on, what rapidly became more important than anything else, was what the rider had slung over his steed, and was even now holding in his arms as he dismounted.  
  
The general suddenly came to himself and ran down from the control room into the Gate room. Even from that distance, he could see the mysterious rider was holding a body, the body of one of his people. He could even see the dark bloodstains on the dull green fatigues. As he reached the ramp, he saw who it was. There was no mistaking those blue eyes, misted as they were now. Daniel…Daniel Jackson…  
  
"You are General Hammond?" The rider's voice was blunt.  
  
"Yes, I am. You're…"  
  
The rider interrupted, "There is no time! You can still save your friend's life. Hurry!"  
  
The general looked up at the technicians, who knew exactly what to do.  
  
"Med team to the Gate room!"  
  
  
  
"I need help in here!" Janet's voice could be heard clearly through the closed door. The general tried not to let his concentration slip. He knew Janet and her nurses were doing their best for Daniel right at this moment. His own job was to discover what had happened to him, and why he had been brought back to the SGC borne by a stranger on horseback.  
  
The stranger himself was reticent. His words had been spoken at the time of his dramatic entrance; now, he preferred to keep his silence.  
  
In the meantime, the technicians were hard pressed to think what to do with the horse! In the end, the creature was taken above ground and fenced in and quarantined on top of the mountain. It would take some time before a vet with the correct clearance could be flown in. The horse might be carrying diseases an ordinary vet could diagnose, but then again, there was always the chance of a potential security breach. The general wondered vaguely what would be the reaction of a civilian vet to something like nanocytes in the horse's blood, for example.  
  
The rider was just as difficult to deal with. He was so silent that had they not heard him speak in the Gate room, they might have wondered if he could speak at all. He had allowed himself to be led to the infirmary, but he was uncooperative. Not that it mattered. In the sterile environment of the infirmary itself, all attention was on Daniel.  
  
The general tried not to let the strange situation get on top of him. This is Stargate Command, he reminded himself. Here, things like this happen every day. It was also true Daniel Jackson appeared to be injured and hurt every day, as well, but that thought did not reassure the general in the slightest. The young archaeologist might have as many lives as a cat, but there was no guarantee this wasn't the last of them. The doctor hadn't sent in any reports just as yet. Hammond hadn't expected them. He stood straight in the control room, just like he had been a few minutes before, watching the dormant Stargate. It was so silent he wondered if he had hallucinated the whole thing. But only ten minutes later, there was a comatose archaeologist, a morose black-clad horseman and a large black horse that refused to be imagined away.  
  
"Unscheduled Gate activation!" The tannoy blared as loud as usual. Down in the Gate room, the huge stone ring began to spin. The chevrons lit up with the usual fanfare, and in the control room all eyes were on the monitor screens.  
  
It took longer than usual. It took so long the general wondered whether there was about to be an audible thud, but it came at last. The computer accepted the code, and the iris spun out of the way.  
  
A second later, the remainder of SG-1 had staggered onto the ramp, shivering and exhausted.  
  
  
  
General Hammond hated paperwork with a deadly hatred, only surpassed by that of Colonel O'Neill. But he was interested in this particular batch of reports for once. They were SG-1's reports from their last mission. The general read through them with a confused air. A wet, windy planet, a race of people with an aversion to technology, a band of mysterious black riders, and Daniel Jackson…  
  
Coming to a decision, the general reached for the phone on his desk, not the emergency red phone, but the internal one. In a matter of minutes, Colonel O'Neill was on his way to the general's office, wondering inwardly at the reason for the summons.  
  
The general greeted him cordially enough, giving him cause for relief, but then, curiosity reasserted itself.  
  
"I wanted to talk to you about this report, Jack," Hammond said easily.  
  
"Sir?" Jack said, noticing the use of his first name.  
  
"It says here that you accompanied this native – Wolf, did you call him? – and negotiated for Dr. Jackson's release after his kidnapping, is that correct?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Jack replied.  
  
"Now, no offence, Colonel," said the general tactfully, "but negotiation is not your strong point. You haven't stated whether you were assisted in the task by Dr. Jackson himself, but judging by his condition upon his return, I'm assuming he didn't and you negotiated by yourself alone, is that right?"  
  
"Yes, sir," Jack replied in a bland tone, but he understood the reasons for the general's enquiries. It had all seemed… too easy. Wolf had taken them to his home village, and immediately arranged for a meeting with the officials of the black riders. Jack had wondered at the time about the apparent ease with which they arranged a meeting with a band of fugitives. And then their representatives had come. They were gentle, polite and denied all knowledge of a human captive. Jack, angry and worried, had pressed them. They remained as they were, politely unhelpful.  
  
Wolf had been philosophical. He had merely advised the Earth team to postpone negotiations for a few days. Unhappily, Jack had agreed. He had not risked the return trip to the Stargate for communication with Earth, worried that another team member would be taken. Instead, he had elected to wait it out.  
  
And it happened just as Wolf said it would. Four days later, the black riders' representatives had returned, just as gentle in their manner, but this time bearing with them the deeply unconscious, bleeding form of Daniel Jackson.  
  
Jack had been angry. The general was right: negotiation had never been his strong point. His anger had shocked even his own team members. It was the sight of Daniel that had done it – the long blonde hair the team leader had complained about was now soaked in rapidly drying dark blood.  
  
The proceedings had been surprisingly amiable. The black riders merely rode away, leaving Daniel, in his damaged state, behind them. Wolf had not wanted the team to risk the trip to the Stargate alone again. Providing them with an escort from his own people, he told them to follow on behind. He himself gathered Daniel up on the horse, and rode hell for leather across the moor land to the circle of standing water.  
  
When the team arrived home, their only thoughts were for Daniel. Janet had been curiously reticent about the condition of the archaeologist.  
  
The general listened to Jack's account of the mission's end with half an ear. He was merely repeating what he had written in the report. Finally, he sent SG-1's leader on his way, convinced that he was telling the truth as he saw it.  
  
As Jack left, he saw Janet Frasier coming the other way, and nodded and smiled at her, as was his custom. But Janet didn't smile back. Instead, she looked at him wildly, and said, "Colonel, bring your team to the infirmary. Now!"  
  
Jack stared after her for a few seconds, then hurried to Carter's lab, where he was lucky enough to find Teal'C as well. They were discussing the events of their last mission in hushed tones. None of the team had been permitted to see their fourth member.  
  
Jack strode in without looking back. "Come with me," he stated definitively.  
  
"What's happened?" Sam asked. But there was no answer. Jack had already gone. Leaping to her feet, she followed with Teal'C close behind.  
  
Down in the infirmary, the team found Janet waiting for them. Putting a finger to her lips, she led them silently in to see their hurt archaeologist. He lay very still, his expressive blue eyes hidden by long lashes. He could have been asleep, Sam thought to herself. If only he was…  
  
Janet looked up to find the team looking at her expectantly. "This is hard to explain," she faltered. "When… when Daniel was brought in, I thought he was bleeding to death."  
  
Jack nodded. "I didn't have to be a doctor to draw that conclusion myself, doc." Daniel had been absolutely covered in blood. Janet still remembered the shock she had received as she saw Daniel's fatigues were darkened not with dirt or water, but nothing more or less than dark red blood.  
  
"Daniel has Rhesus-negative blood, sir," Janet stated. "AB negative, a very rare type. For that reason, I'm always very careful with him."  
  
Jack looked at her. He had no idea where this was going.  
  
"So I tested the blood on his fatigues as a matter of course," Janet went on, her voice getting more unsteady as she continued. "It's not AB blood, sir. It's not even Rhesus negative."  
  
"What?" Jack said sharply.  
  
"That wasn't Daniel's blood," Janet plunged on. "He's covered in someone else's blood, not his own. And by the look of it, it was done deliberately. There's no way that much of it could have got on him otherwise."  
  
Jack wasn't sure he had fully understood this, but one thing did seem to be clear to him. "Isn't this a good thing?" he asked. He motioned to his friend, who slept on. "If it wasn't his blood, he couldn't have been hurt as bad as we thought, right? Right?"  
  
Janet paused, and then nodded. "Yes. That's the problem, Colonel."  
  
"Problem?" Sam repeated.  
  
"Yes," Janet said. "Daniel came here with a few cuts and lacerated hands. There was no deep wound, nothing that could have caused the heavy blood loss we assumed he must have."  
  
"So? That's a good thing?"  
  
"Yes, but then, why is he unconscious?" Janet said. "Why is he so unresponsive? He isn't injured. Blood loss would have accounted for this, but we've established he hasn't lost any blood. And yet…" she waved a hand at where Daniel lay, dead to the world.  
  
There was a silence, broken only by the sound of a ticking clock and by Daniel's steady breathing.  
  
And then there came the knock at the door. They all turned, and watched it open to reveal a familiarly mysterious figure.  
  
"Wolf," Sam said. Wolf said nothing, but entered the room with stealthy, noiseless footsteps. Jack stared at him, trying to will him to speak, and surprisingly enough, it worked.  
  
"I have overheard your conversation, "Wolf said blandly. "My apologies. However, I may be able to help you."  
  
"How?" Jack asked.  
  
"Your friend. Daniel. He merely sleeps. You have but to call him, and he shall wake. I have spoken."  
  
Sam stared at the horseman for a second, and then moved to Daniel's side. Taking a deep breath, she called, "Daniel! Danny… wake up… Daniel!"  
  
Was it her imagination, or did the lashes flutter? Did he hear her voice? "Daniel!"  
  
"Space Monkey!"  
  
"Daniel Jackson!"  
  
Daniel blinked in the cold light of the infirmary. He knew where he was. Whenever things went suddenly black and phased out, he always seemed to end up in the same place. His head ached savagely, and that was nothing new either. His team were here beside him, and he smiled inwardly to see them. After a pause he let his eyes close again, knowing the darkness to be the healer of all ills. He would wake soon again, but now he was content just to sleep…  
  
Sam turned to stare at Wolf in surprise. "How did you know…" she began.  
  
Wolf smiled. "Ask me not. Instead, come with me now. I shall tell you all you need to know before I depart."  
  
Sam looked back at Daniel, sleeping peacefully again, and then at her commanding officer, who nodded. "Go," he said. "Teal'C and me will stay."  
  
Teal'C nodded in agreement. "Indeed we shall."  
  
Satisfied for the moment, Sam left, struggling slightly to keep in step with the long-legged horseman. Wolf glanced at her as she jogged to keep up, and slowing his pace a little, led her into the Gate room. There was a little activity here, mainly to do with the technicians shepherding a MALP up the ramp to whatever new destination it was bound for now, and Sam and her guide escaped comment.  
  
Stopping, Wolf pointed to the Stargate. "I must return," he said. "I have stayed only long enough to see your friend return to himself, and now I must go."  
  
"We have the coordinates to send you back," Sam said. "But…"  
  
"You must take heed of my words," Wolf went on, taking no notice. "Do not return to Andralorien. My people can offer you nothing but friendship, freely given, but it is not worth the risk of provoking the black riders for that alone. We can fight our own fight, and we must do so relying on nothing but ourselves. And if we cannot prevail, then…" He shrugged his shoulders, then laughed slightly. "We are an Asgard protected world. You should not return."  
  
Sam nodded. "I understand. You want to be left alone."  
  
Wolf smiled. "Yes, that is exactly it. And one thing further…"  
  
"What?"  
  
"Your young friend…"  
  
"Daniel?"  
  
"Yes, Daniel. He has only begun his journey home. You must help him and hinder him, hurt him and save his soul before he will truly have come back to you. But he has strength, and it can be done. Remember, you must never return to our world."  
  
Sam wondered at his words. She wondered at his words as his horse was returned to him, and she watched as he mounted it with a fluid grace. She wondered as the technicians deserted the hapless MALP and started a new, different dial-up. She wondered as the seventh chevron locked, and Wolf began riding slowly up the ramp. As he turned to bid her farewell, and then disappeared into the depthless surface of the wormhole, she was still wondering.  
  
  
  
Janet always liked to take one last look round the infirmary before she left at night. She always looked forward to the evening, to home and to Cassie, but she never felt quite right without that last look around. Sometimes the infirmary would be filled with wounded soldiers, most of them masochistically refusing pain relief, and groaning and moaning because of it. Sometimes she would have people in here with illnesses never to be found in any textbook she'd studied from, diseases never found on Earth at all. Once, she had come here to an infirmary that was empty. She wished it were always like that.  
  
But today, she had one patient only. Daniel lay there, still pale, still sleeping, but he was otherwise fully healthy, and Janet smiled. She'd done the rounds. She could go home.  
  
SG-1 were on much-deserved leave. Teal'C was due to go to the Land of Light today, and he wouldn't be back for four days. The week before, Jack had had the sudden idea of sending Ry'ac a pizza, explaining rather incoherently, "He's a kid! Kids should have pizza!" The general had been somewhat bewildered by the idea, but he couldn't see any harm in letting Teal'C take his son a pizza. Therefore, the Jaffa warrior left the SGC through the Stargate that night with a large square box held carefully in front of him.  
  
Jack himself was going home 'to have a beer and watch the game' as he succinctly put it. He had refused the offer to stay and assist Carter with one of her 'projects' in favour of spending his leave in happy inactivity. He had even declined to go fishing, saying he had had enough of water for a while.  
  
Sam was smiling to herself every so often as she thought of her 'project.' Sergeant Siler had promised to help her again, and the motorbike would be gleaming and like new by the time she finished with it, she was sure. The only problem would be getting it out the mountain, up twenty-eight levels and past several security check points without anyone seeing!  
  
Just before the team went their separate ways that night, they converged in the infirmary.  
  
"Goodbye, Daniel. We'll be back soon."  
  
"'Night, Danny. I'll come and see you tomorrow."  
  
"Farewell, Daniel Jackson. I wish you a speedy recovery."  
  
The airmen saluted the colonel and major as they left, and the technicians dialled the Land of Light and watched Teal'C disappear into the wormhole with his pizza box.  
  
In the infirmary, the night nurses went on shift. Since Janet's departure, SG-2 had come back from a firefight, and there were a few other patients now, all injured, but none life-threateningly. They slept in peace.  
  
Daniel slept fitfully now, his mind full of troubled dreams and imaginings. His sense of time passing became confused, hours passing in what seemed like minutes, and minutes creeping by in an eternity for each.  
  
Hours passed, and slowly, Daniel made his way out of the depths into consciousness, no matter how hard he struggled to stay in the comforting darkness.  
  
He woke up and he was dying. He was burning up and freezing cold and gasping for breath and he was dying…  
  
He was dying right here in front of their eyes.  
  
  
  
Cassie stirred sleepily when the phone rang. She was used to it ringing in the middle of the night, and she wasn't surprised when her mother padded slowly into her room. "Honey…" whispered Janet, "I have to go. I'll be back before morning, promise."  
  
"Okay…" mumbled Cassie sleepily, and rolled over and went back to sleep.  
  
At Cheyenne Mountain, Janet presented all the correct security clearances at the check point and gave the guard a look that meant if he didn't hurry up, he would never see the sun rise again. The guard took the hint and waved her in.  
  
Janet ran to the elevator and waited impatiently for it to drop twenty floors. Even before the doors had opened she had run down the corridor in the direction of the infirmary.  
  
Daniel sat up at her entrance, his eyes wide with fear.  
  
"Daniel!" she said sharply. He turned to look at her, but didn't say a word, pressing his hands to the sides of his head in pain. Janet tried to banish all but objective and impartial thoughts in her head, and failed utterly. Moving forwards, she placed a hand on Daniel's forehead, and felt the heat that characterised a high fever. But the frightening thing was the look of absolute and utter fear in Daniel's blue eyes. "Janet…" he said, almost too quietly for her to hear. "It's… it's gonna kill me… I'm going to die…"  
  
Janet did all she had ever been taught to do in this kind of situation, except that age-old remedy of immersing the patient in cold water. In his current mental state, she had a feeling that this would be the quickest way to send Daniel into an all-out panic attack. She administered the drugs she knew would bring down the fever, but in the time it took for them to take effect, she saw the worst case scenario come to life in front of her. Daniel's fears were justified; as his body temperature climbed, his legs and feet kicked outwards, and in minutes, his body convulsed.  
  
Janet had seen this happen before only rarely, and even then only in children. A temperature this high had meant the body processes began to spiral out of control, and Daniel launched into a series of frightening febrile convulsions that Janet realised, to her horror, she was powerless to control for as long as the drugs took to take effect.  
  
After hours, the drugs kicked in. Daniel sank into uneasy sleep, and Janet watched as he slept, uncomfortable in the knowledge that as soon as they showed any signs of wearing off, she must re-administer the drugs. She knew quite well that she was treating the symptoms, not the cause, and the knowledge sickened her.  
  
Daniel trusted her. And she had no idea what to do.  
  
  
  
Sam entered the infirmary at nine o'clock in the morning to find it alive with people. The injured soldiers from the night before were waking up slowly and having their wants and needs administered to by a troupe of nurses who had just relieved the night shift.  
  
Sam walked through the organised chaos to find Janet, and found her at last sitting listlessly in a chair, almost staring into space.  
  
"Sam!" the doctor exclaimed, startled by her friend's silent approach.  
  
"Hi, Janet," said Sam easily, and after a closer look at her, added, "What happened to you?"  
  
She might well ask. Janet, having had next to no sleep, was white as a sheet and clearly desperately worried.  
  
"What's happened?" Sam asked again. Janet sighed, and wearily related the events of the night before to a sympathetic listener.  
  
"Daniel had… some kind of a fit?" Sam said, to clarify.  
  
"Not a fit," Janet said. "A febrile convulsion. That's dangerous, Sam, and the worst part of it is I don't have any idea what's causing it!" Her voice died away into something that resembled a sob, and Sam's head jerked to look at her. "Whoa," she said gently. "This is not your fault, Janet. Something happened to Daniel on that planet. We just need to find out what it was."  
  
"And just how are we going to do that?" demanded Janet, who was clearly in a desperately pessimistic mood. "We can't ask him what happened to him. I can't risk letting Daniel regain consciousness."  
  
"Why?" asked Sam in surprise.  
  
"One of my duties is to prevent suffering," stated the doctor firmly. "He's in so much distress when he's awake… I can't let that happen to him."  
  
"But what is happening to him?" Sam asked. "A fever shouldn't be painful, should it?"  
  
"No!" Janet cried. "He has a fever so high he has convulsions for absolutely no reason; he's in pain and obvious distress, again for no reason; and while he carries on like this I have no idea what to do!"  
  
"Janet…" Sam said quietly. "This is not your fault. We'll figure it out. You need to get some sleep. I'll look after Cassie and I'll tell Colonel O'Neill what's happened. You go."  
  
"What about Daniel?" Janet demanded.  
  
"What are you doing at the moment? Just giving him drugs, isn't that right?"  
  
"Yes…"  
  
"Can't someone else do that for a few hours?" Sam asked, letting a note of pleading come into her voice, and Janet smiled weakly. "Yeah, I guess," she admitted, wiping her eyes, and letting herself do as she was told.  
  
Before Sam left to find Cassandra, she slipped in to see Daniel herself. He lay peacefully enough now, but Sam could see how his hands were clenched into fists even in sleep, and she could see how deeply asleep he was. She wondered exactly how high a dose he must have been given to keep him this far under. After a moment of silence, she left, and Daniel slept on.  
  
  
  
Daniel was still vaguely aware of what was going on around him. He knew he was under a shadow of some unknown threat, a mysterious force that would claim him as soon as the darkness cleared. He was glad of the black oblivion he had surrendered to; it kept him safe from the pain as long as he stayed here.  
  
But he knew he couldn't stay here forever. In time, the darkness would recede, and he would return to wakefulness where the unexplained horrors lay in wait. So he hung on, preferring to stay in the abyss rather than climb out. He lay there, dreading the return of the light of day.  
  
Down in the briefing room, there was an argument going on, which was not surprising. What was surprising was the identities of the protagonists. Colonel Jack O'Neill and Major Samantha Carter hardly ever had a clash, which was what made them such a good commanding officer and second-in- command. With a civilian linguist and an alien warrior as the remaining half of their team, the military half could not afford to disagree.  
  
But they were doing it now, and doing it vociferously. Jack was getting the worse of it so far, because Sam had brought her extensive vocabulary into play with a flourish, leaving the hard-assed military colonel at something of a loss.  
  
"You can't even think about suggesting this, sir," said Sam flatly. "It's unthinkable."  
  
"I am your commanding officer, Major," snarled Jack. "It's a little concept known as chain of command."  
  
At this point, the general entered.  
  
"With all due respect, sir, I don't care! You can't do this!" Sam stated, her voice tight with anger. Jack opened his mouth…  
  
"People! What the hell is going on?!" Hammond demanded angrily. Surprisingly, it was Teal'C who answered. "Colonel O'Neill and Major Carter are having a disagreement, general," he said calmly.  
  
"Thank you, son, I can see that!" exclaimed the general breathlessly. "What about?"  
  
"I want to go back to that planet, sir," said Jack, almost as calmly as Teal'C. "If the doctor won't let us talk to Daniel, we'll find out what happened to him ourselves."  
  
"They can't possibly ask Daniel any questions, sir," put in the now-rested Janet, who was sitting in on this briefing. "And I really don't have any idea what's happened to him."  
  
"But Major Carter has a different opinion?" queried the general.  
  
"Yes, sir," Sam said. "Wolf told me in no uncertain terms not to go back. I think we may put him and his people in danger if we do go. And there's nothing to say we won't all be captured if we go again."  
  
"But… what was his name?… Wolf, can't have known what would happen to Daniel when he said that," objected Hammond, but Sam shook her head.  
  
"I think he did know, sir," she said. "He didn't say so in as many words, but he did say… what was it?" She paused for thought here, and heard Wolf's words clearly again in her mind.  
  
"He said what we have to do for Daniel, sir," she said. "We have to… 'help him and hinder him, hurt him and save his soul' before he comes back to us."  
  
There was a pause. At last, the general broke the silence. "If he knew," he said slowly, "then were we right to trust him?"  
  
"Yes." The reply came from three people in unison. SG-1 had trusted Wolf from the moment they met him on the wet and windy moor.  
  
"But what does that mean?" Janet wondered out loud. "How can we help him? Hinder him doing what? And why must we hurt him?"  
  
"We're all asking those questions, Doctor," the general said. "Well, people, I agree with Major Carter. No-one's going back to that planet."  
  
Jack stared at him rebelliously, and Hammond went on quickly to call on Janet: "Dr. Frasier?"  
  
She looked at him. "Yes, sir?"  
  
"Is Dr. Jackson's life in any danger?"  
  
Janet considered. "Not at present, sir," she said carefully. "I can control whatever it is for now."  
  
"However, I want all of you to wrack your brains thinking of a way to help Dr. Jackson," stated Hammond, looking directly at Jack. "Dismissed."  
  
  
  
Sam sat and looked at her motorbike. It was nearing completion, and another hour's work on it would finish the expert restoration she and Sergeant Siler had worked so hard on. But somehow, she didn't have the heart for it. Her thoughts were forever turning to the gentle, pretty linguist who lay in such obvious pain.  
  
Coming to a decision, she got to her feet and left the room. The base was deserted at this time, and she padded through the darkened, empty corridors without meeting anyone along the way. When she reached her destination, Janet wasn't surprised to see her. "Sam," she said softly, as not to wake any of the other patients.  
  
"Will you let me see Daniel?" Sam asked.  
  
"Nothing could possibly make things worse," Janet said wryly, "least of all you." Sam nodded at her, and walked slowly to where her friend was. "Hey," she whispered.  
  
To Sam's utter shock, Daniel's blue eyes opened and, he looked straight at her. "Hey," he said weakly in response.  
  
Sam thought wildly about calling for Janet, but quickly she decided there was no time. If Daniel were temporarily lucid, no matter for how short a time, it might be the key to saving his life.  
  
"Daniel," she said gently, "do you know where you are?"  
  
"Yes," he answered quietly. "In the infirmary."  
  
"Do you know why you're here?"  
  
"Because I'm dying." A simple reply, three words, that pierced Sam's heart like metal barbs.  
  
"No!" she said fiercely. "Daniel, we don't know what's wrong with you. But you are not dying! We won't let you die!"  
  
"You don't know what's wrong with me." Another simple, quiet reply, that hurt Sam more than a knife blade would have done.  
  
"No," she answered, sitting down beside him. "Daniel, we need your help. What happened to you out there? We need to know, so we can help you!"  
  
"I don't remember," he said helplessly. " I don't remember!"  
  
"What do you remember?" Sam asked.  
  
"I remember being taken. I was the sacrifice. I bought your freedom. They took me as I was. They took my body and left my mind… they took my body and they left my mind…"  
  
Daniel's voice faded into nothingness. Sam stared at him for a few seconds, and saw his eyes close. Coming to herself with a start, the astrophysicist ran for Janet. "He woke up," she said breathlessly. "He knew where he was… who I was… he tried to tell me…"  
  
Janet was taking Daniel's vital signs as she listened to this, and emerged shaking her head. "If he was awake, it's not going to happen again very soon," she said gravely. "He's deep under again for the moment. What did he say?"  
  
"He said he doesn't remember what happened to him, but…" Sam was finding it difficult to express herself.  
  
"But…" prompted Janet.  
  
"He said they… 'took his body, and left his mind.'" Sam sighed with relief as she recited this verbatim, as she had been terrified she would forget the exact words. She had no idea what was meant, but now they had another clue. Another clue, to add to the enigmatic hints Wolf had given her and whatever they might manage to discover for themselves.  
  
Janet, however, had ideas of her own. "Took his body, and left his mind…" She paused, and looked thoughtful. "Sam, I know what that suggests to me."  
  
Sam stared at her in horror as the penny dropped. "No…"  
  
"It's a possibility we can't rule out."  
  
"On top of everything else?" Sam was almost crying. "On top of it all, then that…"  
  
Janet tried her best to soothe her friend. "Sam… I might be wrong. I probably am wrong. Just don't think about that. Don't… think about it, okay?"  
  
Sam nodded. "Okay…"  
  
  
  
Daniel could hear their voices faintly. He knew they were talking about him, but a fog in his mind prevented him from understanding as he should. Strangely enough, he felt… better. Less like a mysterious black force was in the process of sweeping him away, and more… human. More like himself. But he knew that it could only be temporary. In a short time, in a matter of hours, the horrors would return to claim him as their own. And this time, Daniel was considering letting them. It wasn't worth fighting it any longer. The end result would be the same. Death held a tantalizing attraction; it would give him freedom and peace from this terrifying existence. More than death, he wanted his own life, but he would take death instead of the terrible semi-conscious life he had now. It was a life that didn't belong to him but to someone else, and that someone else refused to take it back.  
  
Late that night, it happened again. This time, Janet wasn't as thoroughly scared as she had been the first time, but she was still praying to the powers that be: please, stop this.  
  
Janet wondered vaguely if Daniel were developing tolerance to the drugs she was giving him; a higher dose was required this time to make the convulsions stop, and she still had to endure several hours of holding Daniel back from hurting himself as the drugs began to take hold. After some time, the frightening convulsions did stop, and Janet allowed herself a deep sigh of relief; she had been afraid the drugs would not work at all. She had been forced to give Daniel higher doses for the same effect, and she knew that before long, she would have to stop using them. Even now, the high doses were borderline. Any more and she would risk an overdose.  
  
When Daniel was calm, and sleeping heavily, Janet sat down wearily beside him and pulled her pen and clipboard towards her. It was as she wrote the word 'tolerance' that the ray of light pierced her mind.  
  
Sam had been trying to concentrate on catching up on some work in her lab. She hadn't been doing very well even when she had peace and quiet; following the entrance of Colonel O'Neill and Teal'C into her quiet lab, she threw her work aside with a practised sigh.  
  
Jack hadn't been as distracting as usual, however. He was in a quiet, reflective mood, and Sam could see his thoughts were turning to Daniel, even as her own thoughts were.  
  
At this point, Janet entered the room, waving her clipboard and shouting: "Tolerance!"  
  
"Uh, doc," said Jack patiently, "I think you mean 'Eureka.'"  
  
She ignored him. "Sam! I've got it!"  
  
Sam looked at her in surprise. "Got what?"  
  
"I know what happened to Daniel!" she cried.  
  
Sam looked at her in amazement. "What?"  
  
With a thump, Janet sat down in a convenient chair, reverting to her professional mode. "I've been noticing for some time how Daniel has needed more and more of the drugs I've been giving him to get the same effect."  
  
Sam nodded. "He's gaining tolerance."  
  
"Precisely. I didn't pay any attention to that, and I should have done. Daniel's symptoms… pain, febrile convulsions, obvious distress… are symptoms of withdrawal."  
  
"Withdrawal?" Sam repeated. "Withdrawal from what?"  
  
"By the look of it, a highly addictive opioid drug," Janet replied.  
  
Jack gave her a bland look, and Sam explained, "A drug like heroin, sir."  
  
"That's it!" Janet said again, getting more convinced with each passing moment. "Didn't you say, sir, that you weren't able to rescue Daniel immediately?"  
  
"Yes," said Jack. "They wouldn't let us take him for four days."  
  
"I'm guessing that those four days were used to get Daniel addicted," Janet said.  
  
"Can you get addicted to heroin in four days?" wondered Jack out loud.  
  
"This was an alien planet, Colonel. The drug may not actually be heroin, but one similar enough to give the same withdrawal symptoms. He was deliberately addicted to it, and for the first twenty-four hours after his return, enough of it remained in his body to tide him over. Ever since, he's been in withdrawal from it."  
  
"Are you sure of all this?" Jack asked suddenly.  
  
"No…" faltered Janet. "But it seems very likely."  
  
"So what do we do?" Sam asked. She got up as she spoke, and Janet and Jack joined her. The trio were making their way to the infirmary.  
  
"We have two choices," Janet answered as they reached their destination and she made her way to Daniel's side. Lifting his limp hand, she soon found what she was looking for. The puncture marks on and around Daniel's wrist seemed to confirm the theory.  
  
"How come you didn't notice those before?" Sam asked.  
  
"We were distracted," Janet replied. "It was all a clever set-up. The drug, whatever it was, would have acted as a sedative. So it appeared Daniel was weakened from blood loss, when he hadn't in actual fact lost any blood. And just as we thought he was recovering, he went into these inexplicable convulsions, making him believe he was dying and we were powerless to stop it."  
  
"So what do we do now?" Sam asked again.  
  
Janet's expression sobered. "We have two choices. We can leave Daniel as he is, let him ride out the storm, as it were, which is not a good idea."  
  
"Why?" asked Jack.  
  
"Because every time he goes into convulsions, I can do less and less for him," Janet explained. "He's in pain, Colonel, and I can't do anything about it."  
  
"And the other choice…" began Jack.  
  
"…is worse," finished Janet, making him blink in surprise. "Why is it worse?" he asked.  
  
"Colonel, have you ever heard of a drug called methadone?" Janet said carefully.  
  
"What? Yes… yes, I have," he said, suddenly realising what she was getting at.  
  
"I have not," said Teal'C, speaking for the first time in this long discussion, and they all looked at him. Sam decided to do the explaining.  
  
"You know what heroin is, Teal'C?" she began.  
  
"Yes, Major Carter," he said placidly.  
  
"Well, when people are addicted to it, and are trying to kick the habit, it's never very easy to just go cold turkey." She used this idiom without thinking, and Jack helpfully stepped in. "It means to just stop taking it," he explained kindly.  
  
"Yeah," Sam said, and went on, "To make things easier for people, they're given another drug called methadone. Methadone is like heroin but less potent; so people are given it in gradually decreasing doses so they can finally go without taking heroin or methadone. This way, their withdrawal symptoms are much less severe."  
  
"And Dr. Frasier wishes to use this method on Daniel Jackson, is that correct?" Teal'C inquired, apparently satisfied with the explanation.  
  
"Not quite, Teal'C," Janet said sadly. "I'd much rather not have to do it."  
  
"Sorry, doc, but I don't quite get it," Jack said at this point. "What's wrong with doing it if it's gonna help him?"  
  
"Because," said the doctor, "if we give it to Daniel, we're going to have to register him as a drug addict. And what if I'm wrong, and he isn't in withdrawal at all? I'll have left him physically dependent on a highly addictive drug for no reason."  
  
"Firstly, Janet, I don't think you're wrong," Sam said. She had spent the last few minutes deep in thought. "We have to 'help him and hinder him, hurt him and save his soul' before he comes back to us. I think I've finally realised what that means."  
  
"And secondly," said Jack leaping headlong into the gap in the conversation, "Daniel's been legally dead, legally married on another planet and legally clinically insane before now, and it doesn't seem to have done him any harm."  
  
"So you think I should give Daniel the methadone?" Janet asked, apparently trying to come to a decision.  
  
"Yep."  
  
"Yes."  
  
"Indeed."  
  
"We'll have to inform the general," added Jack as an afterthought, "but he's a good guy."  
  
The general reacted just as Jack thought he would. "You people are listed as Dr. Jackson's next of kin," he said. "If you agree with it, then…"  
  
Just before Janet came forward with the hypodermic, Sam sat at Daniel's side and took a good look at her friend as if through new eyes. He lay deeply sedated as always, one arm flung outwards. His eyes were hidden by heavy lids, and his nails were digging into his palms. Janet was right. He was in pain. "Daniel," she said softly," Janet's figured it out. Come back to us."  
  
She looked at the doctor and nodded. Janet moved in beside Daniel, and stabbed the hypodermic needle into his arm. Gently, she let the drug flow in. She knew she was doing the right thing. But that didn't mean she had to like it.  
  
Daniel responded slightly to the pinprick. Almost as if he were in a dream, he felt the drug flow in. And again, almost as if he were in a dream, he felt every muscle in his body relax as the methadone took effect. If he had been properly awake, he would have sighed with relief. As it was, he slept: deep, easy, dreamless sleep.  
  
  
  
"Move, will you?" Jack demanded, slightly annoyed at the obstacle in front of the pizza box. "You're in the way."  
  
"In the way of what? A barrage of more sarcastic comments and illogical remarks?" was the ever-so-slightly irritable reply.  
  
"Ouch," commented Sam. "Sounds like someone needs another hit."  
  
Daniel glared at her. "Very funny."  
  
In the meantime, Jack had grown fed up of trying to reach around Daniel, and decided the easiest way to solve the problem was to literally pick him up and lift him out the way.  
  
"Jack! Put me down!" Daniel wailed as he found himself suddenly in mid-air.  
  
"No sooner said than done, Danny!" Jack declared as he promptly dropped Daniel unceremoniously onto the floor. "Jeez, Daniel," he commented, "how much weight have you lost?"  
  
"Great," muttered Daniel from his prone position on the floor. "Now I fit the stereotype."  
  
"Daniel!" Sam exclaimed.  
  
"It's true, isn't it?" retorted Daniel, sitting up. "And you're right, by the way. I do need another hit."  
  
"Daniel, no," said Sam warningly, and surprisingly, Daniel smiled.  
  
"I'll be good, I promise," he said. "Just don't let Jack pick me up any more."  
  
"Agreed," she replied. "And Daniel…"  
  
"Yeah?"  
  
"I want to… well, apologise."  
  
"What for?" asked Daniel, mystified.  
  
"I persuaded Janet to do this," she said hesitantly. "The drugs you're on now… they're my fault."  
  
"Don't apologise, Sam," said Daniel seriously. "I'd much rather have them than not."  
  
"What happened to you out there, Daniel?" Sam asked suddenly, the first time any of them had asked this question since Daniel's awakening.  
  
"I really don't remember," Daniel said thoughtfully. "I have flashbacks, sometimes… the drugs knocked me out for most of it. All I can remember, I've already told you."  
  
"Why did they do it?" Sam asked. "The black riders, I mean. Why did they do this to you?"  
  
"A gentle hint, I'm guessing," Jack said, "never to go back there."  
  
"But we would have gone back," Sam objected, "if Wolf hadn't warned me. Unless…"  
  
"What?" Jack asked.  
  
"The black riders are used to dealing with people who have limited technology and refuse to use what they have. They can't have foreseen we would use other drugs. They would expect their victims to die quickly on returning from the planet. Abrupt withdrawal can kill."  
  
There was a silence, which, typically, Jack broke. "In which case, let me at the pizza," he remarked. Daniel grinned and handed him the box. Teal'C, who had been listening to this interplay with a slightly bewildered air, reached out for a piece, and Sam and Daniel followed suit.  
  
Taking a bite of the piece of pizza, Daniel was reminded of something. "Teal'C, what happened to Ry'ac's pizza?" he asked innocently. His tone implied he already knew exactly what had happened to the pizza, and as he caught Sam's eye, they both dissolved into giggles.  
  
"You knew?!" Jack exploded. "Damn scientists, you knew all along…"  
  
"The space between stars is cold, O'Neill," Teal'C said calmly. "It was to be expected."  
  
"You knew too?" gasped Jack. "You knew the pizza would freeze in the wormhole? Why didn't you tell me?"  
  
"You were so excited about it!" Daniel said, still smiling broadly. "We didn't want to dash your hopes!" The thought made him giggle again, and Sam was soon doing the same thing.  
  
Jack started to say something, no doubt something sarcastic, but his voice changed into an unintelligible growl. Finally, he gathered his wits together far enough to speak. "Daniel, you're a junkie. Carter, you're my second-in-command. Teal'C, you're bigger than me. Those are the only reasons I'm not killing you now!"  
  
They merely laughed, much to his annoyance. Even Teal'C was almost smiling. Finally, Jack got up and stormed out.  
  
"Well, ask a stupid question…" Daniel said with a shrug.  
  
"True," said Sam. With a sigh, she added, "I do wish he hadn't taken the pizza with him, though."  
  
The door flew open. It was Jack.  
  
"I knew you couldn't stay mad at us for long," Daniel said, grinning, but Jack cut him off. "Mad at you, my ass," he growled. "This box is empty!" He threw down the flat square box with another growl and glare all round.  
  
Stoically, Teal'C produced four slices of pizza out of nowhere.  
  
The three human members of SG-1 stared at each other for a few seconds, and as one, decided not to inquire further.  
  
Teal'C wondered what Ry'ac would say to this, and then decided not to inform Colonel O'Neill that Drey'auc was perfectly capable of defrosting a frozen pizza.  
  
Late that night, just before SG-1 took their leave of each other, Sam caught hold of Daniel. "Hold still," she warned him.  
  
Daniel flinched as she stabbed him with the needle, but patiently held still while she administered the methadone as Janet had taught her. After she finished, Daniel lifted his hands and watched as they gradually stopped shaking. The methadone acted quickly. He noticed something different. "The dose is lower," he said.  
  
"Yeah," Sam said, smiling. "It'll be a few weeks, but you will be free of this thing, I promise you."  
  
Daniel smiled in return. "Thanks… for everything."  
  
"You're welcome. Just… don't do this ever again, all right, Danny?"  
  
Daniel made a face at the use of the hated nickname, and Jack entered just in time to get the benefit of it. "You know, Daniel, you do not handle withdrawal at all well," he said crossly, making his second-in-command give him one of her patented you're-being-insensitive-sir looks.  
  
But Daniel only laughed. It might have had something to do with the methadone, but he was ready to forgive. The team suddenly collectively realised how late it was, and decided sleep was the order of the day. Janet had taught Sam how to administer the drug Daniel still desperately needed, and so the team had agreed it was safe to crash at their leader's house.  
  
Jack's last thought before he fell asleep was no doubt related to Ry'ac's pizza.  
  
Teal'C's last thought was probably something to do with the bizarre customs of the Tau'ri. There were times when he felt he would never understand this world and its equally bizarre inhabitants.  
  
Daniel's last thought was for Wolf. He hoped that some day, their mysterious equestrian friend would find a way to return his world to peace.  
  
Sam's last thought was to do with the the diminishing supply of methadone in the plastic box in the corner. She grinned as the thought occurred to her. If Daniel had anything to do with it, they wouldn't need any more.  
  
*fin* 


End file.
